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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257278">In the Excess of Misery</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadeOfStardustAndOreos/pseuds/MadeOfStardustAndOreos'>MadeOfStardustAndOreos</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>3x03, Angst, Canon-compliant if you squint, Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Friendship, Gilbert is GONE for Anne, Gilbert needs a distraction, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Romance, Season 3, walk in the woods</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:14:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,438</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257278</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadeOfStardustAndOreos/pseuds/MadeOfStardustAndOreos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In Mary’s last days, Gilbert is forced to be the strong one, to cling to what normalcy remains. One night, it proves to be too much and he searches for a distraction, afraid of what will happen if he lets his mind wander. </p><p>But what—or who—is more distracting than Anne Shirley-Cuthbert?</p><p>A missing moment from 3x03</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In the Excess of Misery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Rainy days and bad dreams call for ANGST except this isn't super angsty but I hope you enjoy anyway! Characters owned by L.M. Montgomery and Anne With an E</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we have of life even in the excess of misery!” — Mary Shelley, Frankenstein</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Supper was a strange affair at the Blythe-LaCroix household. They ate it in Mary’s room, all four of them. They laughed and told stories, ignoring Mary’s heavy eyes and the lack of flavor in their meal. Delly’s giggles kept their spirits light. Their unified sorrow was shut behind the door, unnamed and unaddressed. </p><p>Gilbert preferred it that way, but it still crept through the cracks, making their smiles a little sadder and their words more careful. </p><p>When they finished up, he collected the plates and bowls, leaving the LaCroixes on their own. He didn’t often feel like an intruder to their family, and he didn’t now, but they needed time on their own to grieve in ways he couldn’t be a part of. </p><p>As he washed the dishes, he tried his best to keep his thoughts there. On scrubbing the plates, not missing in between the tines of the forks, drying each curve of the bowl carefully. When that was finished, he searched desperately for a new distraction. He was afraid of where his thoughts would go if he let them wander. </p><p>Anne had dropped off school work this morning, but that seemed impossible to do. The sun was close to setting. He could go to bed early. But he feared letting his mind quiet, as those awful thoughts would be quick to attack what peace he had left. </p><p>He could go for a walk. Or a ride. </p><p>Yes, that was the thing to do. </p><p>He left the house quietly, not wanting to disturb the gentle comfort of Mary’s bedroom. Keeping his eyes trained on every sight around him, Gilbert made his way to the barn. The grass beneath his feet was damp from the spring rains. The fields beyond whispered from the wind, his family’s grave visible if he bounced on his toes. Taking a deep breath, he pretended not to see it and refocused on the barn. </p><p>Readying his horse kept his mind busy. </p><p>Then they were off, first a steady trot, then a quick gallop that made Gilbert wish he’d brought his coat. Despite its chill, the breeze was pleasant and promised respite. They thundered over worn paths and through the trees. Their destination was a mystery, but Gilbert liked it that way. Sometimes it felt like he knew too much. He knew all about sepsis, how quickly it could take loved ones. But he didn’t want to think about that. </p><p>Without even realizing it, he had brought himself to Green Gables. He stayed outside the fence line, but slowed down to see if a certain someone was home. Anne was the most distracting person he knew, after all. Her fiery spirit felt like a beacon calling him home, a whisper of sunshine and euphoria. She’d be in the house now, probably finishing up supper like he had. Still, he slowed to a walk in the hope that she'd spot him through a window, or step outside at just the right time. </p><p>At no sign of her, he prepared to move on, but not before Matthew came out of the barn. Gilbert had always been fond of the old man, even though his words were so infrequent. There was something about his cheeky grin and bright, curious eyes. And his adoration for Anne, of course. </p><p>“Gilbert,” he said, nodding. “Looking for Anne?” </p><p>
  <em> Was it that obvious?  </em>
</p><p>“Uh… I—” </p><p>“She’s gone for a walk.” He pointed toward the opposite treeline. “That way.” He nodded once more and then headed back towards the house. Conversation over, apparently.</p><p>“Thank you,” Gilbert remembered to say. </p><p>Vaguely he wondered if Matthew knew about Gilbert’s feelings for Anne. Sometimes he wondered if everyone knew, except for the girl herself. Disregarding his mild embarrassment at being so obvious, he directed his horse towards where Matthew had pointed. </p><p>He imagined she had gone for a walk for much the same reason as he had. Mary’s slow crawl toward passing on had affected her just as it affected him. For almost a week now, she had been taking care of Delphine, helping to make food, bringing him his schoolwork, and thinking of ways to make Mary’s last few days meaningful, all with a smile and a sweetness only she could provide. </p><p>And between every moment, she’d find him and with a quiet touch, ask if he was doing alright. Gilbert had assured her everything was fine, and it was. He wasn’t the one dying. </p><p>But she knew. As much as he put on a brave face, on the inside, Gilbert was struggling. For almost his whole life, his home had only known tragedy. Unknown siblings that never made it to childhood, a mother gone with his own birth, and his father too, years later. With Bash’s arrival, light and life finally returned to his home, and were only strengthened by Mary and Delphine. </p><p>Now, it was all falling apart again. And Gilbert didn’t know if he could hold on much longer. </p><p>When tears threatened the corners of his eyes, he remembered himself and continued his search for Anne. He just had to hold on for a bit longer. </p><p>He reached the treeline and followed it, but there was no sign of her. Or there wasn’t if you didn’t look. On the ground below him, like a path leading him home, was a collection of flowers, winding towards the cliffs. </p><p>Grinning, Gilbert followed them. The path faded as the forest gave way to wild grasses, but his destination was now clear. </p><p>Like the figurehead of a ship, she stood at the edge of the cliffs, basket in hand, red hair caught in the wind. She turned at the sound of hoofbeats, mouth falling open in surprise. </p><p>He stopped his horse and dismounted. As he walked toward her, Anne did the same, meeting in the middle. </p><p>“Is everything alright? Is Mary—”</p><p><br/>“Everything’s fine,” he said. He hadn’t thought of how she’d react upon seeing him. It pained him that her automatic reaction to him was to expect bad news. </p><p>“Oh,” she said. Her blue eyes had never seemed larger. Gilbert could barely stop himself from outright gaping at her. Anne was always beautiful, but in the sunset… Planes of gold highlighted her rosy cheeks and bright hair. Even her freckles seemed to sparkle. Underneath it all was a girl mourning the loss of life, as one mourned the transition from fall to winter. </p><p>Shaking himself, Gilbert realized she still didn’t understand why he was here. “I just… needed to get away.” </p><p>“Of course. I can’t imagine…” Her sentence remained unfinished. Anne, unable to imagine something felt wrong, like a sour apple. But he didn’t want her to imagine this. He’d do whatever he could to prevent her from ever facing this reality. </p><p>“Do you want to sit?” she asked, gesturing with the blanket in her arms. “Marilla would kill me if I got dirt on this dress.” </p><p>“Sure,” he said, sighing in relief. Anne was bringing him out of his funk, just as he’d hoped. She grabbed his hand—huge swarm of butterflies—and tugged him toward the cliff’s edge. </p><p>Together they spread the blanket, each grabbing two corners. It wasn’t very large, barely big enough for two people. Gilbert sat, Anne at his side, much closer than normal. He ignored the swooping of his stomach. </p><p>Anne pulled her basket to her. Her other hand landed right near Gilbert’s. If he were braver, he would have grabbed it and held tight. But he wasn’t, so he pulled some grass and fiddled with it. </p><p>“What do you have there?” he asked, nodding at the basket. </p><p>Anne glanced at him once, smiling, before pulling out a pen and paper. She tilted the basket to show him the rest. Inside were about a million flowers of all different varieties. </p><p>He chuckled. “I suppose you have a plan for all of those.” </p><p>She rolled a delicate sprig of baby’s breath between her fingers. “Yes, most of them are for the hats we’re adorning for Mary’s Easter celebration—” Another one of Anne’s great ideas. “—and the rest are for a book I’m making. It’ll be all her recipes, written out for Delphine when she’s older. I’m going to press flowers and paste them on the pages.” </p><p>It was perfect, and so very Anne. </p><p>“That’s amazing. I can’t wait to see it when it’s done. Mary will love it.”</p><p>“You think so?”</p><p>This time it was easy to find her hand and squeeze it. “I know so.” Surprised, she gazed up at him with a soft smile. So close to each other, Gilbert felt his cheeks warm. If he wasn’t dreaming, Anne’s warmed too. Her breath catching, she returned to her papers and uncapped her pen. </p><p>Gilbert returned to… playing with grass. </p><p>“How are you doing?” Anne asked. The question was expected, but he’d secretly hoped she wouldn’t ask. Something told him she wouldn’t take his usual answer. </p><p>“I’m alright,” he said. </p><p>“No, you’re not,” she said matter-of-factly, like she was spelling out the letters of a word. </p><p>Gilbert sighed. “No, I’m not. But I have to be, for Bash and Mary. Whatever I’m going through is a million times worse for them.” </p><p>He watched her carefully loop her handwriting and thought back to when he’d received her letter at sea. Her words had transported him back to Avonlea, where spelling bees and sticking it to Billy Andrews seemed like the most important thing in the world. Things were different now, but to watch her write was like watching a fairy spill magic onto a page. </p><p>“You don’t have to pretend with me,” she said. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” </p><p>Was that all it took? A friendly gesture, a chance to let every worry go. It was different with Anne. She saw his pain and asked him to share, while others only apologized. </p><p>“I just…” And suddenly he was spilling every heartache. It was his fault Mary had sepsis—Anne scolded him for blaming himself—and it wasn’t only due to improperly wrapping her wound. It seemed every person who made a home for themselves in his house was destined for pain. He worried what would happen to Bash and Delphine, not only for their future without Mary, but for the impending struggle they’d face once everything seemed okay again. After all, that’s what happened to Gilbert. He worried about Bash blaming him. He worried about Bash never being the same afterward. He worried about Delphine’s future, already made difficult by being colored—he’d lived with Bash and Mary long enough to learn about that—but now she’d be motherless. How could he leave for school next fall if Bash wasn’t able to move on? </p><p>And then there were more immediate matters like how he could make Mary more comfortable when it was time. And how he’d barely had a moment to process her death. It would leave a gaping whole in his life, one he didn’t know how to fill. </p><p>While he ranted and raved, Anne sat quietly and continued her recipes. She frowned through it all, but she provided a steady hand when he needed comfort and refuted his claims when they veered toward absurdity. Most of all, she listened, which was a gift Gilbert didn’t know he needed. </p><p>As his troubles escaped the confines of his mind, they were lifted away by the subtle breeze and Anne’s kind smile. She didn’t make his worries sound silly or not worth mentioning. When he arrived at complaining about oatmeal, though, he knew his time was up. Anne gave him a look—maybe that worry was a little silly. </p><p>“It’s just a <em> lot… </em>and I haven’t let myself think about any of it. Because if I think too much…” </p><p>“You’ll explode,” Anne finished. </p><p>“But I can’t just shove all these troubles off to the side and pretend they don’t exist. I don’t have to read a medical textbook to know that’s not healthy.”</p><p>“And that’s why I’m here. To listen.” </p><p>He smiled gratefully. It startled him to realize he hadn’t done that in a few days. </p><p>“Thank you, Anne. I don’t feel better, necessarily, but I feel lighter.” </p><p>“Of course. What are friends for?”</p><p>But Gilbert wondered if any of his other friends would have had the patience to listen for so long. He was a bit surprised Anne had the patience, but he also knew she’d find any amount of patience if it meant easing someone’s pain. She was special in that way. </p><p>The sun was already dipping toward the horizon, stars appearing above them. But Gilbert had no desire to move. As long as Anne could see, he planned on staying right where he was. </p><p>“How are <em> you </em>doing?” Gilbert remembered to ask. </p><p>Anne sighed. “I’m alright—”</p><p><br/>“No, you’re not.”</p><p>She whipped around to fix him with a glare. But there was humor to it. It felt like those days at school when the competition was fierce, but friendly. He stifled a laugh. </p><p>“No, I’m not,” she conceded. “But throwing myself into this celebration seems to be helping. And knowing that the months I—<em> we </em>, had with Mary were wonderful and full of love.”</p><p>Gilbert hummed in agreement. </p><p>The minutes passed in comfortable silence. Anne scratched away at the paper like her life depended on it. But there were only so many ways Gilbert could twist his piece of grass before his mind began to wander again. Unloading his worries hadn’t made them disappear completely after all. </p><p>Distraction. He needed a distraction. </p><p>“So… how was Cole?” </p><p><em> Where did that question come from? </em> </p><p>But it was out there. Perhaps it came from the faintest twinge of jealousy over the other boy. Gilbert had returned from sea to find Anne without her signature braids and Cole Mackenzie always at her side. And maybe their friendship had started with her breaking a slate over his head, but it was unfair how easily Cole made his way into Anne’s life.</p><p>“What? Oh—” Anne said, startled. “He’s alright. Enjoying art school. Making lots of friends.” </p><p>“That’s good.” </p><p>“Why do you ask?” </p><p>“Well, you went to see him, didn’t you?”</p><p>“Right. I did.” He could only see her profile, but there was a frown tugging at her lips. She was probably remembering how rudely he’d left her at Josephine Barry’s home. Weeks later he still regretted that, but at the time he’d been frustrated. After days of anticipation, he and Anne finally had a whole train ride to themselves. Then she went and told him she didn’t need him, like he wasn’t her friend.  </p><p>Sourly, he had wondered if Anne had even wanted to be friends. She certainly liked Cole Mackenzie better than him. </p><p>At that thought, his stomach dropped once more. <em> Just how much did Anne like Cole? </em></p><p>“Are you guys… courting?” Gilbert asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. What was he doing here? Hoping to distract himself with a girl promised to someone else? </p><p>Anne laughed. Probably because Gilbert hadn’t realized the nature of their relationship yet. He felt silly. </p><p>“We are <em> not </em>courting.” Another laugh escaped. “Trust me, Cole has absolutely no interest in courting the likes of me.” </p><p>A wave of relief, immediately overtaken by hot anger. </p><p>“What do you mean <em> ‘likes of me’? </em>” Gilbert gaped at her. </p><p>At his expression, she laughed again. “No, he—”</p><p>“Did he reject you?” Gilbert instantly regretted saying it, in case it brought up bad memories. At his venomous tone, Anne grew serious. Gilbert had to fix this. “Well, good riddance. If he can’t see how incredibly amazing you are, he doesn’t deserve you. In fact—”</p><p>“Gilbert!” Anne said, putting her arm on his shoulder. “He didn’t reject me. He’s just…” she trailed off. “You can’t tell anyone this, okay? I’m only telling you because you look ready to tear his arms off.” </p><p>At least he had the decency to blush. He nodded. </p><p>“Cole’s not interested in me because he’s not interested in… any girls.” She looked worried, like the statement had the potential to explode. </p><p>“How can he...oh. <em> Oh </em>.” Gilbert realized what she meant quickly. His blush deepened considerably. One of Dr. Ward’s textbooks had addressed it only briefly. Tucked away in a small paragraph, homosexuality was described as an affliction, a disease that needed to be cured. </p><p>But… this was Cole Mackenzie. He may have injured Billy Andrews, but that was because Billy Andrews tended to be the absolute <em> worst </em>. When he wasn’t conversing with Anne, he was doodling all over his slate and looking as harmless as a mouse. </p><p>And if Anne was such good friends with him—friends, nothing more—he had to be a good person. Was it wrong for him to love someone… unnaturally? It was still love, wasn’t it?</p><p>Anne was still clutching his arm. “Do you understand?” she asked hesitantly. </p><p>“I do,” he said, closing his hand over her fingers. “It’s a relief, honestly.” The words escaped before he could stop them. </p><p>“A relief?” </p><p>Gilbert was really digging his own grave today, wasn’t he? </p><p>“I mean—you’re so... so young! And Cole, he’s—he’s at art school! It would’ve been hard to court anyone so far away, and you deserve—” Somehow he found the strength to stop talking. </p><p>Except Anne was barely withholding a smile and tilting her head at him conspiratorially. “What do I deserve, Gilbert Blythe?” </p><p>
  <em> The world. The whole sky of starry universes. A man who loves you as much as I do.  </em>
</p><p>He ignored those thoughts and instead focused on the girl in front of him. With grace he didn’t know he had, he pulled her hand away from his arm and held it. Heart thundering, he found the last of his bravery. “You deserve someone who loves you.” </p><p>Unbidden, Mary’s words from just that morning came to mind.<em> Make sure you marry for love, Gilbert.  </em></p><p>Anne was staring at him strangely. Her lips had fallen open in surprise again, but he couldn’t figure out her cool, blue eyes. There was an intensity to them, but not like when she was taking a test or arguing with him. She looked—</p><p>How that thought was going to end, Gilbert never knew. Because Anne <em> attacked </em>him. She rose onto her knees and launched herself at him, forcing him backward to the ground. </p><p>And then—</p><p>Holy mother of god, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was <em> kissing </em>him. </p><p>Somewhere between falling on him and hitting the ground, she had wrapped her arms around his neck. Her whole weight crushed him, but it didn’t matter because she was <em> kissing </em>him. </p><p>He felt her start to pull away far too soon and realized he had been a statue for the past ten seconds. </p><p>Chasing her with his lips, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. His hand found the back of her head as their lips fought to convey truths they didn’t speak. Gilbert hoped she understood the press of his lips represented his love, the beat of his heart how much he adored her. </p><p>This was the perfect distraction. </p><p>Except it was more than that. Anne wasn’t a passing fancy or a girl he kissed just to kiss. He loved her more than words could describe. If that love was only a distraction, Gilbert wouldn’t never be able to focus on anything else. </p><p>As much as he didn’t want it to end, a nagging thought wondered if Anne needed distraction just as much as he did. And if kissing him was that distraction. </p><p>After what felt like years, they pulled apart, gasping for air. Gilbert was close enough to trace the constellations on her cheeks, to spot the flecks of green in her ocean eyes. He wondered what she saw in him. If she was looking. </p><p>“I’m sorry!” Anne cried, ripping herself away from him. She started frantically throwing things in her basket. “I don’t know what came over me, I didn’t mean to—”</p><p>Though he was still reeling from the novelty of it all, Gilbert found the strength to sit up and grab Anne’s wrist. “Anne, it’s alright. I’m not mad.”</p><p>She paused in her frenetic scrambling. “You’re not?” she asked, her voice quiet and unsure. </p><p><em> No, I’m blissfully happy that my dreams are coming true </em>. </p><p>He wanted to pour his feelings out to her. Tell her that she made his heart beat faster than a galloping horse. Declare that she was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and before he fell asleep. Proclaim that she alone was the object of his affection, the keeper to the key to his heart. </p><p>But he didn’t. </p><p>“You just… needed a distraction.” It broke his heart to say it, but he continued nonetheless. “I did too.”</p><p>There was a war going on in his mind. It was a fight between admitting the truth and saying too much… Because if Anne rejected him now, when his whole world was falling apart, he didn’t know if he’d be able to rise and try again. </p><p>“A distraction. Right,” she said carefully. “I still shouldn’t have… attacked you like that.” She finally turned back toward him, guiltily. </p><p>He breathed a laugh. “It’s alright, Anne. Really.” </p><p>They stayed like that, gazing into each other’s eyes and searching for the truth. Gilbert wondered if Anne could see right through his lie. Then again, she hadn’t picked up any of his dropped hints over the years. If she was truly that oblivious, a kiss wouldn’t change anything. </p><p>
  <em> Would it? </em>
</p><p>“I should probably head back,” Anne said. “It’s getting late.” She nodded at the sun, now split between the sky and sea. </p><p>“I’ll walk you home.” He stood and offered his hand, but she ignored it. When her basket was ready, they folded the blanket and Gilbert took it in his arms. </p><p>His horse hadn’t strayed too far, perfectly happy to graze in the wild grasses of the cliffs. Throwing Anne’s blanket over the saddle, he grabbed the reins and led him in a walk. It didn’t escape his notice that Anne hadn’t left his side. She walked beside him, swinging her basket gently. </p><p>Occasionally their hands would brush against each other, a fleeting touch that warmed Gilbert’s cheeks far more than kissing Anne did. </p><p>He still couldn’t quite believe it. He’d imagined kissing Anne ever since she’d arrived in Avonlea and stole his heart. They’d be arguing or just talking, and somehow the conversation would turn to how wonderfully amazing Anne was, a topic Gilbert excelled at, and then, because he was a gentleman, he’d ask if he could kiss her. And then… </p><p>But he’d never imagined Anne would just outright kiss him, with no prior build up. </p><p>Although, maybe saying <em> you deserve someone who loves you </em> was terribly romantic. </p><p>Either way, it was as she said. Only a distraction. </p><p>The forest around them had grown dark and haunting. The moon had become their only guide, its light seeping through the leaves to bathe them in an ethereal glow. </p><p>“Gilbert,” Anne probed. “What if it wasn’t only… a distraction?”</p><p>Like the bumbling fool he was, he tripped over a rock. </p><p>It took incredible resolve to not trip over his words. “How do you mean?”</p><p>“I… never mind.” </p><p>All the hope that had built up in his chest dissolved. Anne would never see him like that. </p><p>And yet, when their hands bumped again, she wrapped her fingers around his and didn’t let go. The tiniest seed of hope bloomed once more, but he was careful not to let it grow too fast. </p><p>“Can’t see,” Anne whispered. She sounded almost... embarrassed.</p><p>Holding Anne’s hand flustered him beyond belief. He could barely breathe without choking on his own baffled nerves. Her fingers were long and nimble, just as he imagined they would be. They fit between his perfectly, which he tried not to think too much about, and there were gentle calluses from writing and helping around the farm. And her hand was warm, not cold and unfeeling. </p><p>Anne hummed. “Doctor’s hands are supposed to be very steady, they say.”</p><p>“Are they?” Gilbert asked. “And...are mine steady?”</p><p>Though he could barely make out her features, she looked up at him with a little curiosity. “Remarkably so.” </p><p>It was a feat in itself, when every other part of him was shaking. Kissing Anne, holding hands with Anne, what would happen next? Marriage? </p><p>No, no. Not there yet. Maybe someday. </p><p>The trees thinned out as they reached the fields. Green Gables was in sight, which meant Gilbert would have to leave Anne, let go of her hand and refrain from leaping with joy at least until he was out of her sight. </p><p>They walked in companionable silence. Without the shade of the trees, it was easier to see, but Anne’s hand remained in his. </p><p>They could’ve expressed more fears over Mary or argued about nonsensical things, but Gilbert was afraid to break the fragile peace they’d found. With Anne at his side, his hand in hers, he could pretend they were a happy couple, returning home for the evening. Not two friends, aching for a distraction from their fracturing world. </p><p>There’d be other days to ask Anne whether it really had been more than a distraction. There’d be time for them, even if there wasn’t time for others. He just hoped that time would come soon, before Anne remembered she usually disliked him. </p><p>All too soon, they reached the fences of Green Gables. He was reluctant to let go of her, but they’d been gone for far too long. </p><p>She turned toward him, still holding his hand. “Thank you for walking me home. And for… well, you know.” </p><p>He blushed. His mind hadn’t forgotten those captured moments at the cliffs. Imagining her embrace would fuel his dreams for weeks. “Of course. See you tomorrow.” He moved to step away, but Anne’s fingers only gripped his tighter. </p><p>“Gilbert?” </p><p>“Yes?” </p><p>“Feel free to… distract me again. If you like.”</p><p>Grinning, Gilbert dropped a kiss to her hand. “Happy to oblige, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.”</p><p>With that, they finally let each other go. Gilbert mounted his horse and Anne walked back toward Green Gables, stealing glances over her shoulder. </p><p>Gilbert’s grin lasted all the way home. It wasn’t a promise of love, but there was hope. And as he spotted the dark windows of his home, that hope kept him warm. He wasn’t alone in his troubles, thanks to a certain red-haired beauty with fire on her tongue and a melody in her heart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me, thinking to myself: I’m going to make this fic canon compliant. They’re both grieving and being so strong, this is about being each other’s distraction from the world.<br/>Me:<br/>Me: Anne was looking at him strangely.<br/>Me:<br/>Me:<br/>Me: MAKE THEM KISS</p><p>I guess it did turn out kind of canon compliant, but that's only because it felt wrong for them to confess their love for each other in the midst of a tragedy. And the bit about Cole certainly isn't new, but again, he needed a distraction. Either way, hope you enjoyed. Kudos and comments are always appreciated. </p><p>I don't have a tumblr for you to scream with me, but I'll be screaming all the same.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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